


Cactus for a Heart

by Moon_Trine_Pluto



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Kurapika, Character Study, Emotional Baggage, Emotionally Repressed, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, POV Kurapika, Post-Canon, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29013843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moon_Trine_Pluto/pseuds/Moon_Trine_Pluto
Summary: “Well, my goal was to get you to take me to bed. So far, everything is going according to plan,” he blurts because subtle is not Kurapika’s specialty.Leorio tosses his head back, laughing. The sound is like a loud whoop. His posture elongates his throat, accentuating his prominent jawline and those broad, oh so tempting shoulders. It’s a sight to behold.“You know, getting me to the bedroom doesn’t need any planning. I’m a very willing participant,” Leorio says, halfheartedly reaching for his glasses.--In which a repressed Kurapika tries to seduce Leorio.
Relationships: Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Comments: 9
Kudos: 75





	Cactus for a Heart

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Kurapika references himself in a negative way several times. Poor baby is going through a lot.

Their bedroom is dark by the time Kurapika wakes up. Streetlights pour in from the drenched window on the far side of the familiar room, illuminating the pile of mess on the floor. Notebooks. Binders. A larger book spine about human anatomy and a slimmer first aid one. A misplaced laundry basket. Kurapika’s tabard. Leorio’s button-up shirt. And the overflowing hamper Kurapika’s been meaning to get to. He sighs, listening to the rainfall splattering their apartment building. Four years ago, if Kurapika had ever pictured where his life might end up, it would’ve either been six feet under or in some formal bedroom of his own making. One where he put plastic on the furniture and fretted over vacuuming, forcing himself into an uncomfortable existence. He’d sleep with his arms tucked into his sides, wooden swords not far out of reach.

But the life he has _now_. One where he gets to sleep nuzzled in Leorio’s arms every night. Days spent reading books Leorio gifts him. Other days, Kurapika helps Leorio study for upcoming tests, using notecards and a surefire motivator: if Leorio gets the question correct, he earns a kiss from Kurapika. How is Leorio still in school after all this time anyway? After this last year, Kurapika has come to the conclusion that doctors must secretly enjoy torturing med students. And…Kurapika hates that his boyfriend isn’t home enough. Still, though, Kurapika would never trade the life he has now for… _anything_. A life of comfort, laughter, beautiful smiles, disorganization, a hamper so full because Kurapika forgot to do laundry because he got caught up in bickering with Leorio for fun, which ended in an intense makeout session on the couch and Leorio jokingly carrying Kurapika to their bed when he said he was tired. Then Kurapika unbuttoning Leorio’s shirt, since he has a knee shaking weakness for his boyfriend, bordering on primal.

Kurapika unfurls Leorio’s heavy arm from around his waist, sitting up. And suddenly it feels like the world might come crashing down when he remembers everything they did on this bed—

He squints at the digital clock on the bedside dresser. The glowing red numbers read _2:57 AM_ , haunting him in the worst way possible. Kurapika groans, shoving jittery hands into his face in embarrassment. His eyes had been scarlet the entire time him and Leorio kissed, pulsing, rapid, and watery when the emotions were too much to bear.

Kurapika tugs at the school of medicine shirt he wears. The shirt slipping nearly past his knees but not quite. Leorio had grabbed it for him hours ago after Kurapika had been an utter disaster, bundled up in the covers, afraid of his own boyfriend seeing him…in the nude. And Leorio’s clothes had been closest.

He chides himself for acting like a damn cyborg, slinking between disassociating himself while feeling _everything_ and feeling so much, he has to force back tears as his heart thuds, rampant and needy. Kurapika crawls out of bed, quickly grabbing his pants and pulling them up. There. He feels so, so much better. But he hates himself for it.

Kurapika heads toward the window seat on the opposite side of his bedroom, sitting with a whine he never would have emitted before he was dating Leorio. His boyfriend has always had a way of making him feel full, warm, cared for, and… _human_.

Kurapika does what he does best. Moping dramatically as he stares out the window, waiting for lightning to strike him for being a gigantic moron. Lightning never comes out the sky, but the rain turns into a torrent, slamming into the gloomy parking lot below, pelting cars in its intensity.

_Splatter—_

_Split-Splat—_

Even the rain knows Kurapika is dramatic. Rubbing tightening fists into his pants, Kurapika recalls what exactly got him into this self-induced mess.

***

_Hours Earlier_

There he is.

Kurapika lies on the bed, twisting fistfuls of mahogany blankets, clenching in deep breaths. He’s excited. Urgent in his need for Leorio to touch him and never stop touching him. The wanting, pining, _longing_. The accumulation of feelings leaves Kurapika breathless and spent.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he resorts to the habitual.

Kurapika releases his stranglehold on the blankets, sitting up with a mission. He swoops Leorio’s glasses off his face.

Leorio grins, rubbing a hand over his forehead, then chuckles. The noise is endearing, and reminds Kurapika of one of many reasons Leorio has rammed his way into the garden of cactuses that is his heart.

“I thought you were tired,” Leorio says, leaning halfway onto Kurapika, looking way too pleased. The top button of Leorio’s shirt is undone, spurring Kurapika into action.

He is many things. Vengeful. Determined. Prideful. Pretentious. Callous on the surface and a furnace on the inside. But he never would’ve added seductive to that list until now.

“I’ve been assessing my options ever since the couch,” Kurapika says.

“Mmm keep going. I like it when you— _assess_ ,” he teases, poking Kurapika on the nose.

“Well, my goal was to get you to take me to bed. So far, everything is going according to plan,” he blurts because _subtle_ is not Kurapika’s specialty. 

Leorio tosses his head back, laughing. The sound is like a loud _whoop_. His posture elongates his throat, accentuating his prominent jawline and those broad, oh so tempting shoulders. It’s a sight to behold.

“You know, getting me to the bedroom doesn’t need any planning. I’m a very willing participant,” Leorio says, halfheartedly reaching for his glasses.

With all the grace Kurapika can muster, he puts on his boyfriend’s glasses. And he giggles. Yes, that’s something Kurapika does only around Leorio. He giggles uncontrollably, the sound high-pitch and off-kilter.

“How about I imitate a doctor and examine _you_.”

Leorio’s lenses are large, blurry, and smudgy. Kurapika makes a mental note to clean Leorio’s glasses later. They slide down the bridge of his nose, but Kurapika pushes the glasses back up, squinting through the blurriness. He bites his lip, temporarily distracted by the poor quality of the lenses. If he nags Leorio enough, he’ll surely schedule an eye doctor appointment. He might need an updated prescription of glasses.

Leorio lies next to Kurapika, and for some reason is captivated by the role-playing game.

“You can examine me anytime, Doctor _Kurapika_ ,” he says, pillowing his head with his long, shapely arms. There’s a shine to Leorio’s beautiful eyes, like he is mesmerized that him and Kurapika have been dating for a year now. It’s a look he doesn’t deserve, but one that is addictive as much as it is extraordinary. 

“It’s Doctor Leorio,” Kurapika corrects. “I’m loud, obnoxious, and silly.”

“My most cherished qualities.”

“When I talk, everyone within a thousand-feet radius can hear me coming. The best part about me is that I have a penchant for getting my big nose into other people’s business. I care too much about my friends. Even when they are undeserving of my attention and—” Kurapika is feeling bold, climbing on top of Leorio. He straddles him now, his legs slightly quivering as he presses his bottom half flush against Leorio’s pelvic region. He places shaky hands onto Leorio’s chest, perching himself more forward. And Leorio is gazing up at him, wide-eyed and disbelieving, like he isn’t certain Kurapika is real or make believe.

“ _Kurapika_ ,” Leorio whispers, one hand sliding up to cup Kurapika’s face. He leans into the touch, gingerly kissing the palm of his hand, shifting careful lips to plant a kiss on Leorio’s index finger. Kurapika can feel the air rush into Leorio’s body as he gasps. Then Leorio moves his hand backwards, stroking strands of Kurapika’s golden hair, the gesture comforting and very, deeply, intimate. A few moments pass and long fingers travel to Kurapika’s ear, where they gently cradle his earring, fingertips so light and soft that Kurapika’s fragile, cactus-like heart must swell three times its regular size.

The next minute happens fast. Somehow, Kurapika finds the will to slide off of a pliant Leorio. He leans across the bed, placing Leorio’s glasses behind the digital clock on the bedside dresser. Quickly, Kurapika returns to Leorio, his boyfriend meeting him halfway as they share a searing kiss.

They part mouths, Leorio deepening the kiss, small involuntary noises rousing from Kurapika’s all too yielding body. They kiss again. This time Leorio brings his big hands to Kurapika’s face, cupping his cheeks, thumbing beneath his scarlet eyes. That’s another thing. Kurapika can feel his eyes brimming with red. It’s the strangest sensation to explain, but ever since he learned how to wield his eyes into accordance as a weapon, he can tell by the emotional constriction in his chest and the heaviness in his eye sockets when they’ve become scarlet.

Leorio never makes many comments about Kurapika’s scarlet eyes. Not after the first time they turned scarlet during their first kiss, and Kurapika flounced from Leorio’s arms, hiding in the bathroom, alternating between panting and panicking, fixating on the intense redness in the mirror. Up to that point, Kurapika’s eyes had only turned scarlet due to negative emotions, never from anything positive. And the positive had been so unusual and overwhelming, Kurapika had interrogated himself about his feelings for Leorio. Maybe it wasn’t from happiness, but from a deep-seated hatred for himself and Leorio was a casualty. That same night after Kurapika dragged himself out of the bathroom, him and Leorio talked about it in this same room. They talked for two hours, Kurapika swallowing tears back until his rigid self-control broke. The night ended with Kurapika buried in Leorio’s arms, apologizing for crying and malfunctioning. Seriously, back then, Kurapika had felt like a walking _Human Error_.

Leorio takes a moment to rest his forehead against Kurapika’s. They breathe together, sharing similar sentiments of nervous exhilaration and carefulness.

“You okay?” Leorio asks, nuzzling Kurapika’s nose with his own.

Kurapika nods, kissing Leorio’s nose in appreciation. “Yes. I’m very okay right now.”

Leorio presses forward, kissing the spots above Kurapika’s scarlet eyes. He gasps. Moans. Panting. His face goes hot, burning from an all-consuming _want_. What Leorio just did, as small as it is, makes Kurapika’s heart lurch and soar at the same time. No one has ever made Kurapika feel like _this_. Stripped of every hang-up and traumatic memory that makes Kurapika an individual. He’s simply an organism, surrendering to this astonishing man. It’s fleeting as it is sudden. Because when Kurapika comes back down to earth, he’s the last Kurta again. His scarlet eyes are a commodity. Leorio, always good and true, brought attention to his scarlet eyes without making him feel like a product. Kurapika feels…sanctified, like he’s more valuable as a person than his scarlet eyes ever were. 

Fiercely, Kurapika wraps desperate arms around Leorio’s neck, encouraging his best friend to get on top of him. Leorio reads Kurapika just as well as he reads his textbooks about autoimmune diseases, settling on top of Kurapika. Naturally, Kurapika’s legs work with a mind of their own, wrapping around Leorio’s waist.

“That’s much better,” Kurapika says.

Leorio groans, dropping his head down to the space between Kurapika’s neck and shoulder. He noses Kurapika’s sensitive skin, softly kissing the skin he can get to, running a tongue over Kurapika’s collarbone.

Kurapika chuckles, fingertips gliding up Leorio’s fine shoulder blades. He has little control over himself when it comes to Leorio, so Kurapika presses up, attempting to close the small gap between his body and Leorio’s. When he does, he feels the stiffness between Leorio’s legs. Kurapika feels his own hardness rub against Leorio’s. They gaze at each other hungrily, Kurapika torn between ripping their clothes off and decency. Sure, Kurapika and Leorio have been together for a year now, but they haven’t…not yet. Obviously, it’s Kurapika’s fault. Warring animalistic desires and Kurta beliefs always putting a wrench in Kurapika’s sex plans. When he and Leorio do finally consummate their relationship, he wants it to be because it was deliberate and meaningful, not because Kurapika couldn’t control his primal needs.

Without thinking much further, Kurapika begins to unbutton Leorio’s shirt. Toward the bottom of the shirt, a button stubbornly snags in a hole, refusing to budge and Kurapika’s jittery fingers aren’t helping the process. Kurapika swears in Kurta, wrestling with the stupid button, becoming frustrated enough to rip the rest of Leorio’s shirt off when it still isn’t coming undone.

“Woah, woah, slow down. You’re going to rip it,” Leorio says, going to effortlessly unbutton his own shirt. Finally, his shirt falls to the bedroom floor in Kurapika’s haste to remove it. He gulps, roaming soft hands across the expanse of Leorio’s chest. Experimentally, Kurapika softly rubs the pads of his fingers over Leorio’s nipples.

“Fuck,” Leorio moans, his head arching back.

Kurapika does it again, hoping for a more animated reaction. It’s no secret Kurapika likes to watch and listen to Leorio writhe in pleasure. But when Kurapika is the one doing the pleasuring, heat plummets straight to his groin.

Leorio grabs Kurapika’s hand, kissing his fingertips. “Hey, sweetheart, are you sure this is okay?—” Leorio delicately kisses the palm of Kurapika’s hand— “I don’t want you doing anything you’re not ready for. We can stop if you want.”

“Do _you_ want to stop?” Kurapika asks, the question coming out more sharp than he intended.

“Hell no I don’t,” Leorio admits, face turning a burning crimson.

“Well, I don’t want to stop.”

“But Kurapika—” Leorio tucks one of Kurapika’s golden strands of hair behind his ear— “I don’t want you to regret anything we—uh—might do.”

“I regret not undressing you sooner,” Kurapika says with false bravado. To make his point known, he begins to stubbornly shove off his tabard. The tabard flies to the bedroom floor. He’s left in his underclothes, stomach seizing up suddenly. The hot desire he had felt minutes ago beginning to wane. What is wrong with him?

Kurapika can’t back out now. Not after all this time Leorio has patiently waited for him to make up his damn mind about sex. Leorio sits up to give Kurapika more room as he gets to work tugging off his sweatshirt. It’s the equivalent of yanking out a splinter from beneath a fingernail. If Kurapika hurries up and undresses, then it won’t be so bad. Kurapika mentally curses himself for wearing many layers as he shoves off his sweatpants and underwear. Last but not least he discards the black tank top, the garment joining the pile of clothes on the floor. He shivers, covering himself on instinct, legs starfishing in their calling to make Kurapika’s life a living hell. He squeezes his legs shut, but it’s too late. Leorio has already seen what his genitals look like. Is Leorio disappointed he’s not bigger down there? Is he disgusted by Kurapika’s blonde pubic hair?

The Kurta have always been very private people. Isolated. Believing it best to express emotions discreetly during prayers, secretive with their language, and more so with their beliefs and customs. They always believed bodies were mere vessels, but should be treated with delicate care and the sacredness of a prayer circle. Not that Kurapika ever nailed the delicate care part, but at least he had lived up to Kurta expectations of never wearing too little or exposing himself to just anybody.

The tension is zapped out of the room faster than Kurapika’s release of the stranglehold he has on the blankets. Straight away, Leorio eases back. He wears a somber expression, either from disappointment that Kurapika’s body didn’t meet expectations or he senses Kurapika’s discomfort.

“Hey,” he whispers, like he’s trying to comfort a dog with a broken spirit. “Tell me what you need. I can get you something—” 

Kurapika wraps the blankets around his body, brain about to implode. Did Leorio see the acne on his hips? His misshapen butt? How about the scar across his lower abdomen from the time he was stabbed from a fellow mafioso’s sneak attack? Does Leorio think he’s like a pale slug? Oh, no. He swallows a lungful of cold air when his mind circles back to his member. Leorio must’ve noticed how weird he looks down there, pink and blonde hair wiry.

“A shirt,” Kurapika utters, shame washing over him like a bucket of icy water.

Leorio is up fast, going to his own side of the closet since his clothes are closer and he probably considers this an emergency based on Kurapika’s dramatic behavior. In a flash, Leorio is tossing Kurapika a shirt, then turns around to give Kurapika some privacy. He yanks Leorio’s school of medicine t-shirt over his head, and considers asking Leorio to toss him his pants, but Kurapika is still dying inside, so instead opts to bundle himself in the blankets with an elaborate plan to wait for Leorio to fall asleep.

Realistically, his boyfriend falling asleep doesn’t appear to be happening soon. Leorio remains turned around, rubbing at a patch of itchy skin on his elbow. It’s one of Leorio’s nervous habits.

He sucks in a deep breath, asking, “Are you—”

“I’m dressed now,” Kurapika says, maintaining a steadiness in his voice despite his instinct to curl under the blankets and hide.

Leorio spins around, ducking into the closet again to pull out a dark blue sweatshirt. He yanks it on, and immediately approaches the bed. Kurapika makes the mistake of gazing up at Leorio. His boyfriend is a wreck. Leorio is crestfallen, bottom lip shining with sweat, mouth set in a trembling line. To make matters worse, unshed tears pool at the corner of Leorio’s eyes.

“I’m so, so sorry. I thought—” Leorio forces a lump down his throat— “I thought you wanted—but I was wrong. And I should’ve done better at asking and reading you. I never wanted to make you feel…scared.”

When Kurapika doesn’t say anything, Leorio blurts, “Kurapika, _please_ say something. Anything. If you want me to go, I will.”

Kurapika averts his scrutiny of Leorio’s face, inspecting the bed.

“I wasn’t scared for the reasons you think,” Kurapika confesses, shivering in his half-truth.

Leorio opens his mouth to respond, but Kurapika beats him to the punch.

“I don’t want to discuss it yet. I need some time to…mull over the—occurrence.”

“Right.” Leorio nods.

Leorio wipes an arm across his eyes, a trail of tears sliding down his left cheek. Without another word, he pivots toward the doorway. And—Kurapika can’t bear to watch him go.

“Where are you going?” Kurapika asks.

“To sleep on the couch,” Leorio says, shoulders slumping into a hunched position like his body is very much trying to hide itself. Ever since they met back in the Hunter Exam, Kurapika had noticed Leorio’s tendency to do that. Like Leorio was convinced he should be ashamed of his glorious height, broad shoulders, long legs. The notion had Kurapika furious. No one had a right to make Leorio feel such a way.

“Don’t go,” Kurapika says.

There’s a sharp intake of breath before Leorio tiptoes back to bed. He settles next to Kurapika, keeping his long arms on his side of the bed.

“Are you sure?” Leorio stares up at the ceiling, the yellow glow of streetlights marionetting black shapes.

To answer, Kurapika slides an arm out of his cocoon of mahogany blankets, squeezing Leorio’s hand in reassurance. He then drops Leorio’s arm over his body. Kurapika catches the fleeting shock slipping from Leorio’s face. Leorio squeezes Kurapika closer. And then…he finally gets it. No, Kurapika doesn’t hate Leorio. No, Kurapika doesn’t think Leorio ever pressured him into anything. They’ve got _stuff_ , a mountain of insecurities. There’s no one else in the world Kurapika would ever want to peel back the layers with other than Leorio.

***

As much as Kurapika trusts Leorio, he finds it difficult to trust himself. It sounds senseless when Kurapika has spent the last how many years trusting himself beyond anyone else for survival’s sake.

Kurapika stands up from the window seat, whispering hotly a number of Kurta prayers. He talks to the sky, begging for guidance in this dire situation. After completing a round of two prayers, Kurapika begins with a final prayer: please, please Leorio. Please give Kurapika another chance to make things right.

There’s a rustle of sheets behind him. Followed by the familiar pad of Leorio’s footsteps. Kurapika can’t help but straighten his posture as a chill seeps down his spine. He already knows they need to talk this out. No matter how many times they’ve done so, Kurapika’s embarrassment over his intimacy problems never quells.

Leorio comes to Kurapika’s side. “How are you…feeling?” He wipes the sleep from his eyes, attempting to muffle a yawn.

“That’s an abstract question,” Kurapika says. He bunches fists into his sweatpants. After the words have left his mouth, he’s frustrated with himself for reverting back to mechanisms that do nothing but push people away. And Kurapika doesn’t want to push away Leorio. He’s learned life is incredible with Leorio by his side.

“Okay, smartass, let me rephrase that,” Leorio says, fondness in his tone when he calls Kurapika _smartass_. “How are you feeling about what happened before we went to bed?”

Kurapika blinks up at Leorio’s taller frame. His best friend is peering down at him, the brown in his eyes so expressive they do little to hide his unwavering concern and patience. These qualities are the reason why Leorio is one of the greatest people Kurapika has ever known. Whenever Leorio cares about someone, his resolve is unmatched. That’s why Kurapika can’t bring himself to soften the blow of a truth so daunting perspiration inundates the palms of his hands. Kurapika uncurls them from his pants, rubbing the wetness, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead now. 

“I’m embarrassed,” Kurapika confesses.

“You looked petrified,” Leorio says, using a softer tone Kurapika has only ever heard during private occasions.

“I was.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I’m sorry. I’d _never_ want to hurt you or make you feel like I’m going to.”

When words aren’t enough for Leorio, he reaches out to Kurapika, slinging an arm over his shoulder. Kurapika nestles his head into the space beneath Leorio’s arm. It’s easier to talk when he’s breathing in Leorio’s lingering herbal cologne.

“I should be the one to apologize,” Kurapika says.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything,” Leorio utters in Kurapika’s hair, kissing the crown of his head. He shivers from the touch, sliding a hand up Leorio’s upper back, grasping at his boyfriend’s sweatshirt.

“I do. I should’ve spoken to you earlier instead of cowering. I—I chose to remove my own clothing even when I was not comfortable in doing so. I thought—” Kurapika buries his face further into Leorio’s body, dreading this part. The part where he has to admit he’s a fool.

Beats of silence pass, the only noise coming from the pelting rain outside the window.

“What did you think?” Leorio asks, bigger hand rubbing soothing circles down Kurapika’s back.

“We’ve been together for a year now and I concluded…by our current dating phase, we should be engaging in intercourse. Before you, I—I—” Kurapika pauses, his face burning hot— “I never took part in any dating rituals. The Kurta perceived courting very differently, so I had no idea. And you’ve been patient with me, so I….you see, nudity is risqué to the Kurta and—” Kurapika sounds like a stammering mess now, his train of thought fumbling into a disaster.

Leorio rescues Kurapika from making a complete laughingstock out of himself, cupping Kurapika’s face, caressing his cheekbones with delicacy. By their position, Kurapika has little choice but to stare into Leorio’s expressive, tender gaze.

“Look at me when I say this, Kurapika. Our relationship is _more_ than sex. If you never want to at all, then we don’t have to. I’ll become the professional wanker. That was pretty much me years ago anyway, but what I’m trying to say is you mean more to me than anything in this world. You’re…everything. I don’t give a fuck about other people’s relationships and society’s standards. I care about you and what you want,” Leorio fiercely says, pressing his forehead against Kurapika’s. They breathe together as one, Kurapika’s heart nearly leaping out his chest. Then quietly, whispered against Kurapika’s trembling lips, Leorio says, “I love you.”

Kurapika wants to declare those three words back because he feels it in his bones how much he _loves_ Leorio. It’s more powerful than the vengeance that led to Kurapika and Leorio’s intercepting paths, more divine than the first time Kurapika learned his scarlet eyes could help him use all five Nen types at once, more fulfilling than finishing his quest for the Kurta eyes. But since repression is one of Kurapika’s many longtime battles, he settles for springing up to kiss Leorio.

They kiss deeply, Kurapika gripping Leorio by the collar of his shirt while Leorio combs light fingers through Kurapika’s hair.

Leorio sneaks one last kiss to the corner of Kurapika’s mouth, saying, “By the way, you’re just as beautiful undressed as you are with clothes on.”

Kurapika grins, beginning to feel the particular sensation of his eyes becoming scarlet and how the heat on his face might just match his family’s shared genetic mutation. He bites his lip, envisioning Leorio with everything off and the sentiment is very much the same from Kurapika’s perspective.

“I hate you,” he jokes, teasing Leorio by lightly shoving him in the shoulder.

“You know you love me.”

“Indeed I do.”

“You know you can’t wait until you get to see the goods I’m packing,” Leorio teases, motioning to his clothes.

Kurapika giggles, seizing Leorio’s hand to lead him back to bed.

“Remind me again why I have such a dilemma turning primal in your presence?” Kurapika bemoans just so he and Leorio can keep playing their favorite pastime of poking fun at each other. 

“Because I’m hot and you’re hot. We’re just two hot people wanting to _love_ up on each other,” Leorio says, crawling under the blankets.

Kurapika joins Leorio, sidling up to his boyfriend’s side. They form one of their acquainted bedtime positions as Leorio wraps a strong arm around Kurapika’s shoulders. Kurapika rests his head on Leorio’s chest, listening to the pitter-patter of his boyfriend’s accelerated heartrate. He has never felt safer than in Leorio’s arms.

“Thank you for not judging me,” Kurapika says. It’s easier to say when he’s facing away from Leorio’s disarming eyes.

“Anything for you, _Kurapika_. Have I ever told you how much I like your name? It just flows off your tongue and it sounds somewhat flowery. How did you end up with such a cool name?”

Kurapika snickers into Leorio’s chest before delving off into an explanation of what Kurapika means in Kurta.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you if you made it this far! I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
